Knight of Seduction (12 page)

“I’ve ordered Cadel into my service,” he mentioned just to hear what she would say.  “Blodwin is opposed to my plan.  What is your view?”

“He should have been fostered out long ago, but Blodwin wouldn’t permit it, and my father never insisted.”

“Did you know your father well?” he inquired.

“No.  He was like a flamboyant uncle, who rarely visited.  When he was here at Morven, he never spoke to me.  I could have been anyone.”

“Will his hanging come between us?  Will you despise me for what happened?”

“What did happen?”

“He was conspiring with the king’s brother—against the king.”

“Not wise.”

“No, not wise, at all.  His treachery was revealed, and the king had him put to death.”

“You pulled the rope at the execution.”

“Yes, and I’d do it again, too, if my king asked it of me.”

“You make it sound as if killing is easy for you.” 

“No, not easy.  Richard is my friend and my liege.  I am his to command, and I always will be.  All that I have, all that I am, flows from him.”

 She stared at him forever, and he could barely keep from squirming.  He hadn’t thought he was concerned over her opinion on any topic, but apparently he was.  He couldn’t have her blaming him for Ranulf’s ghastly end.  He refused to be held accountable for matters that were beyond his control.

Ranulf had been a fool and a traitor, and Hugh hoped she understood that fact and could move past it, that she could tamp down any lingering resentment.  

He wanted her to respect him, to esteem him, to value him.  Gad, he wanted her to…
like
him.  Was he mad?   

“If you deserve punishment,” she carefully stated, “for your part in Ranulf’s demise, I’m certain the Lord will mete it out.”

“You’ll leave it to the Lord?  You won’t stab me in my sleep?”

“No, I won’t ever harm you.”

“And now that you are my wife, am I forgiven for pressing you into marriage?  Do you still hate me?”

“Hate is a strong word, isn’t it?  Let’s just say I’m reviewing the situation.”

“Ah, a born diplomat.”

He reached out and tugged the circlet from her head, then drew away her veil to reveal her beautiful hair.

“There,” he said, “that’s much better.”

She flushed a fetching shade of pink.  “I’ll never get used to having it unbound.  Father Eustace has always demanded that I keep it covered.”

“I believe you’re aware of my attitude with regard to the priest.”

She chuckled.  “It’s extremely poor.”

“I’d like you to meet with the upper servants.  You must study the workings of the castle, how the food is gathered, how the meals are planned, how the supplies are stocked.  You will gradually take control of it all.”

“From Blodwin?  I couldn’t.”

“She’s been relieved of her duties.”

“She must be very angry with you.”

“She is.” 

“Who is running things?  You?”  She laughed a merry laugh, obviously picturing him fussing over the menus and counting the linens in the cupboards.

“I’ve put Henry in charge temporarily, but he’d rather be out in the stables with the horses.  The faster you can assume your responsibilities, the greater service you will do me.”

“I don’t know how to help you.  I was never trained to manage a household.”  She glanced down at her lap.  “I told you you should have married Rosamunde.”

“Why would I have picked Rosamunde when I could have someone smarter and prettier?”

“You embarrass me with your compliments.”

He laid a finger on her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.

“I’ve had a hard life, Anne,” he confessed.  “I was orphaned as a baby, so I’ve never had a family or home of my own.”
“Neither did I after I turned four and my mother died.”

“See?  We have very much in common.”

“More than I suspected.”

“My past was consumed by war and fighting, where I was trapped in foreign lands and doing my best to stay alive.”

“I hope you’ll tell me of it someday.”

“Perhaps,” he murmured, thinking it would be wonderful to unburden himself.  He never had.  Not to anyone.

She studied his eyes, her concentration intense, and he felt as if she was probing to the very core of his being.

“You’re glad to be at Morven, aren’t you?” she said.  “More glad than any of us could know.”

“When the king told me Morven could be mine, I was so…pleased.”

He couldn’t devise a more apt word to describe the satisfaction he’d gleaned from having a place to call his own.

“I’d like the remainder of my years,” he advised her, “to be easier than the prior ones have been.  I don’t wish to struggle ever again.”

“I understand.”

“I want comfort and…harmony.  I want good food and a warm bed and enjoyable company.”

“They shouldn’t be difficult to provide.  You have excellent servants, and they love you already.”

“But it’s more than that, Anne.”

“Explain it, if you can.”

“I want to
belong
here.  That’s what Morven means to me.”  He gestured around the room, as if it encompassed the entire world.  “If I ride out to hunt, or secure the border for the king, or perform any other of the tasks that will be required of me, I will come home weary and cold and troubled.  I need to find that I am welcome, that you are eager to attend me.  I need you to supply me with sustenance and solace.  Can you try?”

“Of course, I can try.  I will always do my best for you.”

“I knew you would.”

He finally kissed her as he’d contemplated since awakening at dawn.  Her lips were as soft as he remembered, her auburn hair as silky and lush, her skin as creamy and smooth. 

As he’d discovered during their wedding night, she was a quick learner.  She kissed him back with all the ardor he’d shown her how to exhibit, and he was tickled to note that she wasn’t under the influence of any bride’s wine, but she was participating to the fullest.

“Now then,” he said as he drew away, “what is your plan for the rest of the day?”

“I suppose I should speak with the cook about the food and the meals.”

“A grand idea, but in a bit.”

“Why?”

“You have some other wifely duties that must be accomplished first.”

“Which ones?”  She frowned, confused by what he meant.

He nodded to the bedchamber, suddenly excited at the notion of having her in his own bed, rather than hers.  The prospect was exotically thrilling, outrageous, unheard of.  Yet, why shouldn’t he? 

Perhaps he’d move her into his room.  Perhaps he’d have her abandon her chamber and reside in his.  Perhaps he’d keep her with him every night.  He could simply roll over, and she would be …

He shook his head, stunned by his wild, careening thoughts.

“You want to…oh!”  She looked shocked, but intrigued, too.  “It’s the middle of the afternoon.”

“It certainly is.”

“Can we just…proceed whenever we wish?”

“Yes.”

“We don’t have to wait till dark?”

“No.  That’s the splendid part about being married.”

“Could
I
decide that I want to do it?  Could
I
ask you at any time?”

Blood rushed to his loins.  “Yes.  You can ask me, and I’ll be more than happy to oblige you.”

She slid off his lap and took his hand.

“Come,” she said, pulling him up and starting for the bed.

He followed like a dog on a leash.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Anne stood on the battlements, peeking over the edge to the action down in the yard.  Hugh and his knights were sparring with fists, swords, and other weapons.  For a good portion of everyday, he worked them, ensuring they remained sharp and ready.

She’d tried to stay away from the daily sessions, but with the first clang of steel on steel, she would sneak out to spy.

  It was thrilling to observe the burly, bare-chested men as they grappled for advantage.  Hugh was particularly remarkable, which was why she couldn’t keep away.  In their personal dealings, he was unfailingly polite and considerate of her, so it was fascinating to see this side of him. 

He was stronger and shrewder than the others, the ablest and most dangerous opponent.  He never lost even the most brutal match, and Anne was secretly proud of his menacing prowess.

In past years, Ranulf had nearly always been gone from Morven, so Blodwin had been in control.  When villainy occurred, she mustered meager responses.  Her men were poorly trained and equipped, and they’d refused to chase after agitators. 

If any miscreants caused trouble now, they’d be in for a surprise.  There would be no exhausted farmers plodding after them.  Hugh would ride them down, and Anne didn’t like to imagine the consequences for anyone who dared to break the peace.

Blodwin had also been negligent in maintaining the castle’s defenses, and Hugh was correcting that lapse.  Boys had been conscripted to learn how to fight, and some from the wealthier families in the area were being tutored as pages and squires.

Once Hugh had the castle more secure, his knights would head back to the Holy Land to join with King Richard.  They would take their new charges with them, and everyone was excited that local sons would have a chance at glory and adventure. 

They would come home rich.  They would come home heroes.  Every person—high and low—had a stake in their rise to fame and fortune.

Footsteps sounded, and Anne glanced over to see Rosamunde marching toward her.

Since the morning Rosamunde had discovered the bounty lavished on Anne by Hugh, they’d rarely spoken, and Anne was saddened by their rift.

She’d like to repair it, but didn’t know how.  Nor did she suppose she ought.  Blodwin and Rosamunde had no good intentions toward Hugh, and in any quarrel between them, Anne’s loyalties were with Hugh.

Always and forever with Hugh.

 She’d been married in the church, before God and witnesses, and she would never imperil her soul by shirking her duty as a wife.  And she had to admit that her
duty
wasn’t turning out to be awful as she’d expected. 

Their antics in the dark of night were enthralling beyond measure.

While she still grieved that she would never go to the convent, she couldn’t be sorry that Hugh had shown her another path.  Especially when that path was so exhilarating.

“Were you aware of this?” Rosamunde asked before Anne could greet her.

“Of what?”

Rosamunde thrust a piece of parchment into Anne’s hand. 

“Your husband”—she pronounced the word
husband
like an epithet—“has decided I must wed.”

“He has?”

“Don’t pretend surprise,” Rosamunde accused.  “I’ll never believe you, for I’m certain it was all your idea.”

“
My
idea?  I’ve known the man for fourteen days.  If you think I have some authority over him, you’re mad.”

“He’s written to London, to the king’s clerks, seeking names of appropriate candidates.  Then he’ll contact various fathers and solicit offers for me.  He’s treating me as if I am a sow to be sold at a fair.”

Anne took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  The process Hugh had set in motion was the way a marriage always happened.  The only difference was that Ranulf should have arranged it.  He hadn’t bothered, and Blodwin had been content to keep Rosamunde with her.  Rosamunde was being silly to assume that she could continue on as she had been.

A girl of her rank and family wasn’t allowed to pick her husband.  She did as her parents bid her, as her king bid her.  She had no choice, and Anne was amazed that Hugh had wasted any energy on the matter.  Not that she would say so aloud.

Rosamunde should wed.  It was her sole option.  She couldn’t remain at Morven forever.  What would become of her? 

She should have already been a wife and managing her own household.  That was the role for which she’d been groomed.  She was eighteen and nearly past her prime.  If she didn’t marry soon, she likely never would, and she couldn’t rely on her mother to handle it. 

Anne had previously thought Blodwin so smart, so masterful in her administration of Castle Morven.  Yet the more Anne studied and learned, the more she recognized that Blodwin had often been quite careless on the most significant of issues—such as locating a husband for her daughter. 

“Wouldn’t you like to marry, Rosamunde?” Anne asked.  “Just imagine:  You’ll leave Morven and move to your own home.  You’ll have a handsome husband to spoil you.”

  “Lord Hugh is a blind idiot.  He’ll select a decrepit buffoon merely to spite me.”
  “But you hate it here.  Wouldn’t you like to get away?”

“I’m in love with Geoffrey.  He’ll return for me any day now.”

“Rose,” Anne gently chided, “your wish to wed Geoffrey is a fantasy.”

Rosamunde scoffed.  “You’ll be glad to be rid of me, I dare say.”

“You’re being ridiculous.  Why would I want to be rid of you?”

“Hugh should have been my husband, but no.  You pushed yourself in front of him.  You made sure he met you first.”

Anne’s temper flared.  “You’ve said many outlandish things to me in your life, but that has to be the most preposterous.”

“You want me gone, so he doesn’t have time to regret, so he doesn’t have time to realize he picked the wrong girl.”

A huge argument might have ensued, but shouting and rough laughter rang out down in the yard.  Anne whipped away and peered down to see what was occurring.

A group of knights was standing in a circle, with Cadel and Hugh in the middle.  They faced each other like combatants, but only Cadel looked as if he was eager to fight.  Hugh simply looked bored.

“Murderer!” Cadel hissed.  “Father killer!  Thief!”

“I admit to being a murderer and father killer,” Hugh calmly said.  “But thief?  No.  I’ve never stolen anything.”

“You stole this castle.  You stole my birthright.”

“Your father forfeited it with his treachery.  Don’t blame me for his being a traitor to the Crown.”

“You will not speak to me of my father!” Cadel raged, and he rushed at Hugh.

As if Cadel was a pesky insect, Hugh knocked him to the ground.  He glared down at the smaller, younger man as if he was more of a fool than Ranulf had been.